


Blame the Player

by jimmmmin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Fluff, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Post-Hogwarts, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Quidditch World Cup, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28894200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimmmmin/pseuds/jimmmmin
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger have just started dating and now Draco must go ahead and profess his love for her. But is a Quidditch field the right place to do this deed?The answer: NO.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 24





	Blame the Player

**Author's Note:**

> I loved writing this because oh lord, I love Draco as a famous, sometimes angry and jealous Quidditch player.

8 P.M. / Friday evening 

What is the right time and place to profess one’s love for war heroine, witch extraordinaire, and of late, more of a vixen, Hermione Granger? 

1\. At dusk, right when her favourite bookstore in Muggle London is about to shut shop and there are only a couple of lingering customers and too many buying decisions to be made.  
2\. Hogwarts grounds, a little away from the lake and closer to the botanical gardens grown and tended to by her best friend Neville Longbottom.  
3\. Honeydukes, of course, but only after she has tried the new arrivals. 

What is *not* the right time and place to profess one’s love for war heroine, witch extraordinaire, and of late, more of a vixen, Hermione Granger? 

1\. At a Quidditch ground, in front of an audience of three thousand, right after losing a match against Cormac fucking McLaggen. 

Never, ever do that. 

Never.

8 P.M. / Wednesday evening 

“Mmm, Grangie, you are going to get me killed by Coach Weasley,” Draco sighed while his girlfriend moved on top of his body in her bedroom. 

“I will write you a note,” she laughed. 

“Come on, Grangie, come onnnnn.” As much as he wanted to do this, he needed to show his face at practice early. Because of the witch he had been seeing since three weeks now. If Draco Malfoy had known Hermione was this insatiable, he would have made his move after Quidditch season. But, come to think of it, he had been more focused on the Snitch these past few weeks. Mmm, maybe another half an hour. 

“Hello? Earth to my bedroom, Malfoy,” Hermione whispered from somewhere near his navel. 

“Sorry, thinking.”

“Are you thinking of your Quidditch mates while I am licking you? That’s twisted, even for you,” she smirked. 

“Mmm, I was thinking,” he said grabbing her wrists, “how it is absolutely unfair,” pulling her up towards his mouth, “that you get to enjoy this freedom at work,” kissing her ears and hair, “and us pureblood peasants are yelled at by everyone in the wizarding world.” He laid her against him on the bed and kissed all his favourite parts of her face, which is, all of her face. “Now, can we do this on Saturday, I will be here before the crack of dawn.” 

“Mister Malfoy, I look at the Quidditch schedule too well to know that you can be here by midnight on Friday!” she fake admonished.

“It kills me when you say Malfoy like that, love.” He stood up, finally having convinced his body to get away from this witch for now. If he didn’t, he would get a serious yelling from Lady Red, a term he would never utter in front of Ginny Weasley. “I will see you real soon, alright?” 

“I will be at the game, I can try to see you before the game.” 

“Wow, must be a special event indeed. Is the Minister attending?” 

“No, not that I know of. But my boyfriend is playing, I thought an appearance is must,” she smiled and packed her bags for work. 

“Long shift at the hospital?” 

“I think so, everyone is off to watch the games. Another reason to hate Quidditch.” 

“Hey! Hate the player, don’t hate the game!” 

“Can’t hate the player anymore, can I, Malfoy?” 

“No, no, you shouldn’t. Come here, Grangie,” he pulled her towards against him. “Has anyone told you are the most wonderful human being to ever grace this planet, nay, universe.”

“Only you, Malfoy, only you,” she swatted him but had a blush appearing on her cheeks nonetheless. 

“I will see you later, love.” Draco moved to her fireplace. 

“Miss me!” she called back. 

You’d not believe how much I miss you, Grangie, he thought as he entered the Chudley Cannons changing room.

“MALFOY YOU ARE NINE MINUTES AND TWENTY SECONDS LATE!” he heard Lady Red yell. Well, I didn’t need a cold shower after all. 

4 P.M. / Friday afternoon 

Malfoy was getting dressed for the game, looking for his broom and shirt at the same time, and about a second away from losing his nerves. If you asked his players, he had lost it half an hour and it was getting funnier to watch the blonde wizard with each passing minute. 

“Cool it, Draco!” George Weasley sidled up to him and placed a friendly arm on his shoulder. “We might win, we might lose. We only need to remember to kick some McLaggen and Flint ass.” 

“I shall remember that, Weasley, thanks, as always.” 

“Did someone call for me?” their coach asked from the other side of the changing room. 

“I did not but I would like to ask you again to get out while we were changing into uniforms,” George smirked. 

“But I did!” called out a familiar voice from the door. It was Hermione Granger, looking like a goddamned feast in a Chudley Cannons jersey. 

Draco made a move towards her but realised where he was. It had been three weeks to their first date. No one in the wizarding world knew except Lady Red, Harry, and all of the Weasleys. Probably Zabini because Draco had a feeling his best friends had installed cameras in his house. Right now wouldn’t be a good time to go up to her for a good luck kiss. 

“Hermione, all that begging finally paid off!” Ginny screamed in delight, rushing to hug her friend. 

“Or maybe it was all the meat here!” George winked, stealing a glance at Draco’s expression.  
“A lady never tells her secrets, George!” Hermione smiled.

Draco loved seeing her around everyone else, loved how she was the same person with every creature, no matter what their role in society. He waited for the day when he could witness this, right by her side. It wasn’t like they were hiding from the world, more like savouring moments they knew the press would steal from them.

“Can we go to the stands? I need to buy a few pieces of merchandise to show my full support to two of my favourite players?” Hermione asked Ginny. 

“I will see you in a bit, I have a nervous player to deal with,” Ginny said and looked at Draco with humour and/or empathy in her eyes. Hermione glanced at him and offered a smile he knew she shouldn’t have offered him in public. 

“Oh, hello, Draco.” That sly witch. She never called him Draco, not when they were friends, not when they got together, not ever in bed. “Good luck for the match. I hear great things from Ginny from her team but specifically about you these days,” she winked. 

Well, two could play at this game. 

“Well, Granger, it’s so difficult to get Malfoys out from under your skin,” he smirked. 

“I bet you are,” she smiled and exited the room. What he didn’t fail to notice was the jersey number she was wearing. Number 8, the number Draco wore had been wearing since six months for the Chudley Cannons now. If asked, Hermione would act casual about it, claiming to have picked up whatever she saw first in the store, but Draco knew better. He knew the ways she liked to tease. Over the past three weeks, he had learnt bits of her ways of teasing him and this was exactly what she was doing right now, walking into his changing room like…well, like that. 

“Shall we, mate?” he was interrupted by George who was now ready to hit the field, swinging his club around. 

“Yes, yes, let’s.” If Draco wanted to win and impress, he would have to bring back his focus to the game and soon. 

“Let’s kick some ass,” the two Weasleys yelled which brought out loud cheers from everyone in the room. 

7 P.M. / Friday evening 

This was turning out to be a disaster Draco wasn’t prepared for. Cormac was kicking ass, the asshole referee was being an absolute dickhead to Draco, and the fucking Snitch was now a second away from being in the Falmouth Falcons’ Seeker’s hand. 

And there it was, yup, Draco’s first loss with the Chudley Cannons. Not only would Ginny lose it at the team, he also missed this chance of impressing his girlfriend. He knew Hermione was not the witch to be impressed by how he performs on the field (the bed was a whole new game) but he wanted to do it nonetheless. He wanted to catch hold of the sight of the Snitch, raise it to the audience, pause a few moments longer where she was sitting. 

He watched as Ron and Hermione walked downstairs to talk to Ginny, who didn’t look as upset as Draco would have thought. 

“Say Flint, that Granger sure looks sweet. If only that jersey was off her,” McLaggen said while passing Draco and some other teammates. 

“Hey, McLaggen, hi!” George yelled out before Draco could run over. McLaggen looked confused but George’s ‘eat shit’ comment made him realise his mistake. 

“Piss off, McLaggen, before I beat you to shit,” Draco snarled. 

“Look at you, Malfoy, acting noble when we know what kind of an asshole you are. Granger doesn’t need scum like you to defend her. I think she can handle more of me than you’d realise.”

“No, McLaggen, she wouldn’t. You know why? Because we are together and we will always be, so scum like you can fuck right off, McLaggen.” Now Draco, in his anger, had forgotten he was on a Quidditch field and a Quidditch field always had audience. And part of that audience included idiot reporters. 

“Draco, let’s get out of here,” George said tugging at his arm with force. The Weasleys were well aware of what could happen if more than reporter gathered here and they didn’t have much time before that happened. 

“Not before I beat the shit out of him, Weasley,” Draco lunged at McLaggen. Before things could go south, Ron and Ginny rushed to Draco and George, dragging Draco by his limbs to the changing rooms. The wizard gave a final death glare to McLaggen before looking around for Hermione. 

“Sorry, mate, she just made an exit,” Ron whispered noticing his expression. 

Fuck. Not only had he not impressed his girlfriend, he had managed to fuck things up for her. Great going, idiot. 

11 P.M. / Friday evening 

Draco was standing at Hermione’s door, nervous to ring her doorbell because he knew a text or owl wouldn’t work in this situation. 

“Draco, just enter,” Hermione sighed, opening the door to him. 

“How did you know?” he asked but her look said that he was dumb enough to ask this in the first place. 

“Look, Granger, I am sorry, okay?” he pleaded. “McLaggen said some shit about you.” 

“I know how McLaggen works. I know he is an asshole. But, Draco, this is about me and you. And the possibility of us.”

“I know, which is why I am sorry about how it came out. I am sorry about the reporters.”

“There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“Well, yes. I fucking lost. You came to the game and I lost. The referee was being a prejudiced prick to me throughout the game and no one except me could see it! I hate this fucking name,” he said with defeat. 

“Let’s sit and talk, alright? I will get you a tea while I pour some more wine into my glass,” she said and moved into the kitchen. He sat in silence alone for a bit before joining her in the kitchen. 

“Grangie,” he whispered, settling on the countertop. In her tiny kitchen, he felt odd, like he would break something if he even took a breath. 

“Yes, Draco?” she asked making him wince. 

“No, you don’t get to call me that.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“Do you wish I was someone else, someone easier?” 

“Why, Malfoy, I think you are a pretty easy guy,” she smirked and moved closer to him. 

“Shush, Grangie, can you stop thinking about my body for a second?” 

“No, Malfoy, I do not wish it was someone easier. I like you, I more than admire you. I am sorry for what happened with the referee but I hope you understand where they come from. Not saying it’s right at all, but it will take time for everyone to be rid of their prejudices and losses. I am sorry that you have to devote so much of your life to making things right for people who don’t matter to you.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Want to know why I love being with you?” she said and sidled in the space between his legs. She was as tall as him when he sat, which made it so much better for a conversation like this. 

“Why, Granger?” 

“Because of how devoted you already are to this thing we have,” she stroked his hair. “It’s very endearing.” 

“Hm, and what is thing we have?” 

“Well, correct me if I am wrong, but weren’t you the one who announced that we’ll always be together on a Quidditch field, Mister Malfoy?”

“Why, yes, I did,” he said with a soft smile. “The stuff of dreams, Grangie, the good stuff.” 

“Is that right?” she asked with a kiss near his mouth. 

“Yes, it is,” he said with no hesitancy in his voice.

“Then we will have to start working on it, won’t we?” she added a kiss on the other cheek. 

“Yes, we will,” he sighed. “Grangie.”

“Mmmm?” By now, she was on his neck, ready to leave small bite marks on his pale skin. 

“I love you,” he said, loud enough for her to hear him. 

“Mister Malfoy!” 

“Yes, Grangie?” 

“This, and not a Quidditch field, is the right place to tell a witch about your feelings!” 

“Noted, Granger. Now, can we focus?” he asked and pulled her in for a kiss. 

“But let me get your tea!”

“Sod the tea!” he laughed and lifted her in his arms, carrying her upstairs to her bedroom.  
“Isn’t this better?” he asked as he unbuttoned his shirt off and climbed on top of her. 

“Yes, yes, it is.”

“Where were we?” 

“Wait.”

“Grangie!”

“Malfoy.”

“What now? Do you want me to watch you for fifteen minutes like the other night? I do not mind one bit, it has been an exhausting night.”

“No but, we could. Wait, I need to do this as well.” 

“What?”

She reached out her hand to his face, stroking his day-long stubble. “I love you, Malfoy.” 

“Thank you, Grangie,” he smiled, a smile that was more Draco and less Malfoy, less sinister more emotion. “Now that the professions of love are out of the way, let’s get back to where we were?” 

“Absolutely,” she grinned. 

10 A.M. / Saturday morning 

“I think you broke me, Grangie,” Draco yawned as he woke up next to his girlfriend. 

“I am sure I can put you back in place with another round of that,” she purred and cuddled up to his side. 

“That jersey will kill me. I blame that number 8 jersey,” he said looking at the jersey he had thrown on the floor later in the night. 

“Don’t blame the jersey, Malfoy,” she smirked as she climbed on top of him, already ready to start the day with more sex, “blame the player.”


End file.
